


When I Grow Up

by orphan_account



Series: Flower Shop AU [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additonal pairings later, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anxiety Disorder, BTS appears a lot, Depression, Headspace, I tried really hard to not write this in a lighthearted way bc its gon be real depressing, M/M, PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seungcheol's life is foggy and Jihoon is slowly disappearing into his head. When they run into each other and Seungcheol nearly gives Jihoon a heart attack, maybe, just maybe, they start healing. </p>
<p>BTS and other groups have parts in this fic, so enjoy a wide variety of characters.</p>
<p>Please read the warnings and the tags before reading, I really don't want to trigger anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Grow Up

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is finally happening. The multi-chaptered fic based on my Flower Shop oneshot has appeared. This has emotionally wrecked me in the writing process and while I haven't written out all the scenes, there are a few I have planned that I've already cried about, so get ready for an emotional rollercoaster. I really hope I've done this idea justice.
> 
> Again, please read the warnings and tags before deciding to read this fic, I've tagged as accurately as I can as far as anything triggering goes, but please let me know if you find something that I've missed. 
> 
> If you're ready, proceed. I'm saying this with caution though, because you may either be disgusted or hate me.

Water trickles softly through rooftop gutters, flowing gently down to the streets and drains below. Cars honk at each other and at pedestrians who are unlucky enough to be caught out in the bad weather. Despite the rain, life goes on. Students go to school, workers go to work, and it’s gotten late enough that Seungcheol needs to get out of bed and go to his job. The sounds of Seoul are somewhat muted, but it’s still enough to aggravate his headache, the pain behind his temples throbbing steadily. One look at the gray skies outside is enough to tell the black haired man that it’s going to be one of his bad days. 

 

He stumbles down the hallway of his shitty little apartment to the shitty little bathroom where the shower doesn’t work properly and the sink is cracked from a drunken accident years prior. Staring balefully at his reflection, eyes too sunken in, skin too pale and pasty looking, Seungcheol splashes water on his face in an attempt to bring himself out of the fog of sleep. It doesn’t work. He opens the cabinet, revealing shelves full of standard bathroom supplies. A new tube of toothpaste hides behind his shaving supplies, the bottle of mouthwash with a metallic label glints as he glances over it. 

 

The pills are where they always are, on the top shelf, tucked away into the corner where he tries to pretend that they don’t exist and that he doesn’t need them. But he does. Grasping the bottle with clammy hands, he twists the lid, shakes the correct dosage into his palm, and screws the bottle shut again. Little white capsules seem to stare at him, judging him, mocking him.

 

_ Why do you need us to keep you sane? _

 

_ Why can’t you deal with your problems on your own? _

 

It’s a struggle to ignore the little voices; it always is and part of him wonders if he might be a little insane. He swallows them down dry, a horrible dusty feeling left in his mouth afterwards. 

 

The headache is still there. It's always there. He takes his medication every day like he’s supposed to and he’s long since figured out that it’s the pills. When he asked his doctor about it, she hadn’t been very sympathetic, offering no answers or alternatives. The dosage had been lowered temporarily to see if it would help his migraines, but the fog settled back over him like a stifling blanket and he had had to go back to a higher dosage. Seungcheol supposed, at the time, that between the headaches and the fog, he could deal with the headaches more easily. Pain medication was a big no no, but he’d found that hot tea helped, as did a cold compress before he slept.

 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Seungcheol walks back to his room and gets dressed before heading to his kitchen. The clock on the wall showed that it was seven-thirty AM and the little note on the fridge reminded him that it was time to feed Woozi. The grumpy orange cat, a gift from his friend Jun, had become a permanent fixture in his life amidst all of the turmoil. Woozi didn’t judge; the tabby was content to curl up next to Seungcheol on the couch and meowed loudly when his owner was late to feed him. As Seungcheol scooped the cat food into Woozi’s dish, the oversized tabby trotted out from under the table, meowing at the man in greeting.

 

“Morning Wooz, how’s it going?” Seungcheol’s voice is rough from sleep and swallowing down the medication dry, but the cat didn’t care. Forgoing the usual replying meow, Woozi began to eat while his owner poked through the fridge in hopes of finding something even remotely edible. After a disappointing search, Seungcheol came to the conclusion that there was only mold in his fridge and that he desperately needed to go grocery shopping after work. A glance at the clock alerts him that he needs to get his ass moving if he wants to open up shop in time. He owns and runs the store, but one of his coworkers is a different breed of human who seems to place punctuality above all else.

 

Nodding goodbye to the fluffy tabby, Seungcheol puts on his rain coat, grabs his umbrella, and steps out onto the streets. The rain dissuades too many people from being out and about, so Seungcheol makes it to his shop just as the clock struck eight. As always, Boo Seungkwan is waiting under the awning, just like every other morning Seungcheol can remember. The younger brunette taps his foot against the concrete in a catchy rhythm while the elder fiddles with the keys. Finally, the door to the shop is unlocked and Seungkwan sweeps in, going immediately to the back room to set down his belongings. Humming can be heard and despite himself, Seungcheol smiles.

 

The Jeju native burrowed his way into Seungcheol’s life the minute he had taken over for his aunt. The boy was a university student who needed some part time work and managed to charm the florist’s aunt into hiring him, despite the fact that he had no experience and couldn’t tell a rose from a peony. But the boy sang like a bird and quite a few customers had been attracted to the shop because Seungkwan was prone to belting out ballads as he tended to the display in front of the store. 

 

The bell hanging above the door tinkles merrily and in walks Jeonghan, looking angelic as always. His boyfriend Jisoo could be seen through the glass, waving goodbye from his motorcycle. The relationship between the two was sometimes cute enough to be sickening and there had been several occasions where Seungcheol had had to kick the pair out because he’d caught them making out in one of the greenhouses for the hundredth time.. Witnessing romance on a daily basis makes Seungcheol yearn for a relationship but he stops himself every time the longing springs up. The pain experienced in his previous relationship is enough to deter him from trying again.

 

“Morning Scoops!” Jeonghan greets him, the lovely tenor voice filling the air. He lowers his voice a little bit. “You look nice today; one of your good days?” Jeonghan had been his friend since senior year of high school and had been there when everything went to shit. The angelic man had stayed by his side despite it and was one of the reasons that Seungcheol was standing instead of being six feet under in a wooden box.

 

“Any day I can get out of bed is a good day,” Seungcheol lies through his teeth and gives a weak smile in reply. 

 

“Look at you, being optimistic; it really must be a good day.” Jeonghan brushes by him, heading to the back room. The sound of him arguing with Seungkwan can be heard over the radio and Seungcheol shakes his head. 

 

It definitely is not a good day. The headache had gotten worse since he’d left the house and despite the meds, the world is still dim and foggy. Seungcheol had gone to a support group when he’d first been diagnosed with clinical depression and had learned that depression was different for everyone. A waifish girl named Choa said that it felt like everything was hopeless and that she wanted to kill herself on a daily basis. A tall foreigner named Mark claimed that depression felt like there was a glass wall between himself and the rest of the world and he couldn’t break through it no matter what he tried.

 

For Seungcheol, the world is always foggy, everything dull and colorless. No amount of sun can burn away the haze in his mind. It had been and still is hard for him to describe it to others, confusing his therapists and his friends. All he could say was  _ “It’s foggy. Like you’re in a daze and nothing matters or makes sense.”  _

 

The bell above the entrance dings, snapping him out of his thoughts. Seungcheol makes an effort to smile, facial muscles contorting uncomfortably into what he hopes doesn’t look like a grimace. The customer walking in is not the type you generally see in a kitschy little flower shop like Akkinda. A bit on the shorter side, with delicate facial features that are contorted into an expression matching the old ajusshi who lives next door and complains about everything.He seems like he’d fit in better at a tattoo parlor, if the swirls of ink covering his forearms are of any indication. The man’s mint green hair contrasts wildly with the leather jacket, ripped jeans, and heavy boots, a shock of color amidst the black clothing. 

 

“Hey, so, I screwed up, like big time, and my boyfriend’s pissed at me right now, so what do you recommend for appeasing the wrath of tiny, orange haired demon?” The man’s voice is rough, like he’s just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes. 

 

“Um, you said that you screwed up. Like, turned his laundry pink screwed up or forgot your anniversary screwed up?”

 

The man snorts. “He’d love having pink socks, the little nerd. I forgot the anniversary. Do you have any orange flowers?” 

 

“Ouch. But, orange? Didn’t you say your boyfriend’s hair was orange?” Seungcheol can’t help but feel that the conversation is a little weird. The short man in front of him pulls out his phone, swiping the screen a few times and holding it up to Seungcheol. The phone background is a picture of a young man, presumably the boyfriend, whose hair is a soft orange color that reminds the florist of mandarin oranges. 

 

“Like, that color. Do you have anything that would match his hair? Maybe if I can get him to laugh a little, he’ll forgive me faster.” 

 

“Um, let me check the greenhouse in the back. I think we might have something.” Seungcheol turns towards the back door. “Jeonghan! Do we have any of those tiger lilies left?”

 

“Yeah, how many do you need?” Jeonghan calls back.

 

He looks at his customer and asks how many. The mint haired man says that a dozen should do the trick and Seungcheol relays this number to Jeonghan. A few moments later, Jeonghan appears, carrying the wrapped flowers. The flowers are set on the counter and Jeonghan leaves, hopefully to do something productive. As Mr. Mint-Hair pulls out his wallet and opens his mouth to ask the price, his phone rings. 

 

A thumping bass fills the room and Seungcheol recognizes it as a track by Suga, an underground rapper of whom he’s a very big fan of. It’s different from the rest of Suga’s songs, a somewhat sad ballad instead of the usual power-hating raps. The vocals on the song are amazing and the black haired man could admit to listening to it on repeat for hours.

 

“Hey babe.”

 

“ _ Don’t you ‘hey babe’ me Min Yoongi! Where the fuck are you?” _ The voice blares out of the phone’s speaker and the owner of said phone holds the device far away from his ear. Despite sounding pissed off, a musical lilt with a hint of satoori is discernable. Busan maybe? From the way the man in front of him winces, Seungcheol can safely assume that this the boyfriend.

 

“I’m on my way home right now,”

 

“ _ That still doesn’t explain why you ran off this morning. Sure, I yelled a little, but I’ve been asking you to fix that electrical socket for weeks and I got shocked when I plugged in the hair dryer!”  _ The voice exclaims. 

 

“Wait, that’s what you were so pissed about!” Mint Guy’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks at Seungcheol in confusion. He stares back while making an ‘I don’t know’ gesture. 

 

“ _ Yeah, what else would I be pissed about? Aside from you stumbling in at ass o’clock in the morning, again? _ ” 

 

“Jimin, it’s our anniversary and I didn’t get anything for you or plan anything. I thought you found out.”

 

“ _ Yoongi, babe. Our anniversary is next week. _ ” 

 

“It is?”

 

“ _ Yes,”   _ The boyfriend, Jimin, sounds very irritated and the customer, Yoongi, looks like he’s about to endure something very painful. “ _ It’s the thirtieth, not the thirteenth.” _

 

“Um….”

 

“ _ Min Yoongi I swear to god--”  _  Yoongi cuts the call. He looks at Seungcheol with a slightly panicked expression. “Um, do you have another dozen of those flowers?” 

 

Seungcheol genuinely has to try not to laugh--it’s a nice feeling. 

 

~~~

 

After sending off a Mr. Min Yoongi with three dozen lilies and a complementary “I’m-sorry-I-got-our-anniversary-wrong” card drawn up by Jeonghan, Seungcheol feels exhausted and it’s only 9:30. Seungkwan comes in from the greenhouse out back and reports that he’d finished watering the flower bushes and had pruned the little potted shrubs. The younger seats himself on the front counter, swinging his legs back and forth, talking excitedly about something going on at his university that weekend. Jeonghan emerges a few minutes later and begins conversing with the energetic teenager and the rest of the day passes without any further happenings.

 

Seungcheol trudges through his front door at seven on the dot to be greeted by a dead bird and a contented looking cat. He groans and goes to search his linen closet for his dustpan and a pair of gloves so he doesn’t have to touch the dead thing. Woozi sits underneath the kitchen table the entire time, growling lowly when Seungcheol scoops up the bird. 

 

“I’m not sleeping with a dead bird in my house Woozi,” He mumbles to the cat after properly disposing of the carcass. “How’d you manage to get a bird anyway?” The tabby trots over to his owner and curls up on Seungcheol’s lap, purring. Apparently he had been forgiven for the crime of disposing of the dead animal. He strokes the soft fur for a little while, eyes drooping with exhaustion. The man hates bad days because they always manage to make him feel like he’s run a marathon and a half on top of taking the MENSA scholar test.  

 

Seungcheol gently relocates Woozi off his lap and onto the couch; Woozi growling at the sudden change but quickly placated by the catnip toy his owner tosses him. Said owner goes about his nightly bathroom routine and proceeds to curl up under his duvet. Another day done...Seungcheol has to remind himself that it’s an accomplishment to make it through another day, even if it felt like a bad one. The fog clouding his mind is transforming into a sleepy haze and the man falls asleep before he can dwell on his thoughts anymore. 

 

~~~

 

_ A few years ago when Seungcheol’s depression hadn’t been as bad, he had been in university with dreams of music. Despite not being classically trained, he knew that his teachers appreciated his take on assignments, writing raps instead of ballads or using his own method of musical notation because he couldn’t read sheet music to save his life. It was a good time; he had his close friends, his parents were overjoyed at his recovery progress, and he had even managed to get himself a boyfriend. _

 

_ Jang Doyoon was perfect in Seungcheol’s eyes, the epitome of every fantasy he’d ever had in regards to a soulmate. The man’s friends poked fun at the pair, saying that they were too cute for words and that the needed to leave before they made everyone else puke glitter and rainbows. Getting through his bad days didn’t seem so hard anymore, because Doyoon was a call away and never failed to make Seungcheol smile, even when he was so deep in his fog that he couldn’t possibly see a way out. _

 

_ They looked at each other like the universe was hidden in their eyes and Seungcheol made sure to say “I love you” every day so that Doyoon would never forget how much he was loved. _

 

Seungcheol jolted upright, gasping for breath, drenched in a cold sweat. He hadn’t dreamed of  _ that day _ in a very long time.

 

_ Coming home had always been a relief. Being surrounded by familiar sights and scents always managed to calm the him down after a long day of loud voices and fluorescent lights. Doyoon was usually home before him and Seungcheol had become accustomed to the sight of his significant other puttering around their tiny apartment as he tried to cook or clean or do something domesticated in an attempt to be a properly functioning adult. Nights usually ended with takeout and Netflix because they were in university dammit, the boys didn’t have time to be domestic.  _

 

_ That day, it had been quiet when Seungcheol stepped over the threshold, ready to collapse. Old trot songs generally filled the air because Doyoon loved singing along to the “classics.” No such noise could be heard. Trying to remember if his boyfriend had mentioned being home late, Seungcheol set his bag down in the entryway and called out. “Babe, are you home?” Silence answered back.  _

 

_ Assuming that Doyoon had been held up by something, the student pulled out his laptop and began working on an assignment for his musical theory class. It grew later and later and he eventually became nervous because usually his boyfriend texted or called or something to let him know what was going on. Double checking his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or something, his inbox was disappointingly empty. He texted a few of his friends who had classes with Doyoon, asking if they’d seen the boy but they either didn’t reply or didn’t know where he was.  _

 

_ At eleven when Seungcheol was getting ready to call the police to alert them that a person may be missing, his phone rang. Doyoon. He picked up in a heartbeat, words spilling out of his mouth as soon as the call went through. “Are you okay? where are you? Is there something wrong? Why aren’t you home? Oh god, you aren’t in the hospital or something are you?”  _

 

_ “Hey baby.” The voice that answered sounded hoarse and a few hiccups punctuated the speech. It sounded like he was crying. _

 

_ “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re scaring me Yoonie,” Seungcheol can’t help but feel that something is very, very wrong. “Please, please tell me what’s going on. I came home and you weren’t here and it’s late and I’m worried about you. Where are you?” _

 

_ “I’m...I’m not in Seoul anymore Cheolie.” _

 

_ “Not in Seoul? What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t you be in Seoul?”  _

 

_ “I’m going home.” Listening closely, the rumbling of train tracks and people shouting at each other can be heard through the receiver. “I’m sorry.” _

 

_ “Sorry? What are you sorry about, is there an emergency or something? Is it your dad?”  _

 

_ “God dammit Seungcheol,” Doyoon sobs a little. “I thought I could get through this phone call with my emotions in one piece.” _

 

_ “Please tell me what’s going on Doyoon, you aren’t answering my questions and I’m getting scared.” Begging is something that Seungcheol doesn’t lower himself to very often, but his boyfriend is currently scaring the shit out of him and he doesn’t know what else to do.  _

 

_ “I’m leaving. To America.” The words make his heart stop. A cold feeling settles in the pit of his stomach and he feels like throwing up. “It’s been planned for a little while. I’m going to finish my studies at Harvard.” _

 

_ “W-why didn’t you tell me any of this? How long have you been planning this? Answer me, dammit!” It’s hard to speak, sentences getting caught in his throat, cutting off his oxygen. “What’s going on?” _

 

_ “I can’t do this anymore. This life, this relationship..." There's a pause that carries more weight than Seungcheol thinks he can handle. “..you.” _

 

_ And that’s the killer. _

 

_ The words that Seungcheol hoped with all his heart that he would never hear from Doyoon. “It’s not...it’s not your fault. I just want you to know that it’s entirely my selfishness that led to this decision. I love you, so, so much and you have no idea how much it hurts me whenever I say ‘ _ I love you’  _ and you look at me with this sad little smile that says ‘ _ I don’t think you do.’  _ I can’t...I can’t keep putting 100 percent of myself into this relationship when you aren’t accepting my feelings.”  _

 

_ “What the hell are you saying? I love you, how could you ever think otherwise?!”  _

 

_ “You are the sweetest person in the world who doesn’t deserve to go through the shit that you do and despite everything, you still manage to give everyone around you all the love you have. I know that you can look me and say ‘I love you’ and mean it with your entire soul, but when I say it back, you don’t believe me. Love is a give and take thing and it makes me sad to think that you can’t take any of mine because you're so convinced that you’re broken and don’t deserve love.” More sobs filter through the call and Seungcheol’s pretty close to breaking down himself. His entire world is crashing down around him in a matter of minutes and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “You’re not broken Cheol, you’re just a little worse for wear. And you’re not going to get better with me. I love you too much to let you keep denying yourself what you give me. Find someone who will love you and fill you up and make you feel like you’re floating and like your god damned fog doesn’t exist. You deserve so much more.”  _

 

_ “But, Doyoon, what--” He get’s cut off. Doyoon still sounds like he’s about to cry but the little sobs have stopped. “I love you. And you might never accept that, but I love you. Let yourself be loved, please? It’s selfish of me to ask this of you when I’m the one who’s breaking your heart, but...just let it happen.” _

 

_ “Doyoon, wait a minute, can’t we talk about this? I don’t want to find someone else, I want you. What about all of the plans we made? All of those promises?” Tears are falling fast now, staining the sofa and the carpet.  _

 

_ “You’ll make those plans again someday and...it will be a thousand times better than what I could every give you.” And with that, the call ends. The phone falls from his hand and he thinks the screen just shattered. He’s crying and choking and it feels like he’s drowning. He falls to the floor thinking to himself, “I’m falling to the floor crying” and it’s ridiculous because he should be able to control his emotions and didn’t that only happen in movies? And then he notices the place where the wall meets the floor and realizes that he didn’t even paint it well.  _

 

Everyone’s an ugly crier, red eyes, red face, and runny nose and Seungcheol is possibly the ugliest crier in the world as he curls in on himself and tries to hide away from the memories and the pain. Cars honk at each other on the street below and he can hear Woozi meowing at something in the living room and the normalcy is killing him because despite what Doyoon said to him, he _feels_ broken and it’s like the world doesn’t even care. 

**Author's Note:**

> So....you got through the first chapter. Congrats. I'd like to thank my betas, @xiumins-glorious-abs and @darkandthoughtlesscites (their tumblrs, go check them out) for putting up with me so far and for helping me format my word vomit into something coherent. 
> 
> Comments are very much loved and appreciated, any feedback is amazing, and kudos make me smile. If you want to read something happier, go check out some of my oneshots because those tend to be more lighthearted. Hopefully I can update this every few weeks, but I'm heading into competition season with my cheering team so I may not be able to write as much as I want. I'll try to have chapters ready ahead of time, but there's no guarantees.
> 
> If you want to scream at me, go check out my tumblr @too-many-biases99
> 
> Much love, thank you again.


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